Lucky Streak

Dean had never had the best of luck. In fact, his luck was some of the worst you would have ever witnessed. His friends kept a safe distance from him on his "really bad" days, as he liked to consider them. Of course, his friends thought of this phenomena deserved a bigger, better, and even stronger name, but none said anything whenever Dean referred to his day as that.

They knew better than to argue with him on those days. 

Dean woke up the morning of this magical holiday the Irish seemed to love - St. Patrick's Day - with a groan while rubbing his eyes. Oddly enough, he felt off. He didn't feel the same way he did on any other day, and began wondering why this was. What had occurred while he was asleep? 

Yawning, he stroked the bangs out of his face as she shut off his alarm clock, turning to allow his feet to dangle off of the bed. He wiggled his toes, feeling a tingling in them. Confusion rushed into him once more, but he disregarded it, believing his feet had fallen asleep while he was snoring the previous night.

That was the only thing that could be the cause of this, in his mind. 

Dean hadn't had a very open mind when it came to these topics, therefore he couldn't believe it to be true when he had managed to stumble down his stairs without tripping once. 

Shaking his head, he shook it off as happenstance. There were mornings where he hadn't fallen, after all. 

After managing to eat his breakfast leisurely instead of in a rush due to being late, he began to question his own sanity. Was he going crazy? Perhaps this is only a dream. 

And soon enough, he was floating by on the idea that this entire day so far had only been a figment of his own imagination - a dream.

Later on, he made it to the gym his brothers-in-arms were at, being let in without having to pay. With a hesitant nod, he entered. 

"Hey," Dean greeted his pals, Roman and Seth. They put down their weights and approached him. "Has today been odd for you guys, too?" 

Roman and Seth exchanged a confused expression. Neither understood Dean's question, but both figured it was only the beginning of one of his bad days, knowing to take it easy on him. 

"No, it's been pretty normal," Roman answered hesitantly, afraid to set Dean off with a triggering word or phrase by accident. "Why do you ask?" 

"Look, we'll all go out for lunch after this and we'll talk things over," Seth interjected with a nod. 

"Uh, okay," Dean responded, puzzled. "I was just going to say that something was weird because things have been actually good  for me today." 

His friend gave him wide eyed glances, mouth agape slightly in surprise. For Dean to go over to them and reveal such amazing news was unusual, and they had to pinch themselves to be sure this was real.

"Oh, wow," they muttered simultaneously. 

Dean nodded slowly. He wasn't sure how to react, either. 

"Well, let's work out for now," Seth suggested with a shrug. "Maybe after we can go out to eat to celebrate this sudden good luck?" 

All agreed to this and got their sweat on.

- - 

Their drive to the restaurant was successful; no roadwork, no one trying to cut into their lane unexpectedly, and no problems with gas. This was unusual for them; when they drove together, something always went wrong. Because of these occurrences, they're usually late to the arena and frequently got into trouble with their bosses. 

"Wow," Dean muttered as he parked, staring at the wall in front of them. "That's a first." 

"What do you mean?" Roman questioned, raised brow and puzzled expression following. 

"It's the first time we've made it on time without any interruptions," Dean replied, still amazed. "I think I'm actually having some good luck." 

"Wow, I think you're right," Seth agreed with a small nod. "Maybe good luck has finally met up with you." 

"I may not be Irish, but I think I'm having the luck of one," Dean said, feeling good. "It's nice to finally have some good luck for once." 

With that, they grabbed their bags from the back and carried them inside. For once, they weren't outsiders entering in the middle of a meeting, or disrupting the training to ask questions about what happened while they were away. This time, they were here on time, before many others. 

Dean felt accomplished; he had done something he never though he'd be able to - have good luck. It was an amazing sensation to have things finally go his way, and he wasn't about to give this lucky streak up for anyone. 

That night on SmackDown Live, he was having a match against the Lone Wolf, Baron Corbin. They were facing each other for the Intercontinental Championship, in which Dean had been holding for a while. He almost lost it a few times due to the screw-ups of the referee, but managed to get the GM of the show to agree to restart the match to give him a fair shot.

Dean may not be a social butterfly, but he knew who to suck up to. He wasn't stupid; he knew what he was doing. 

He followed his pals to their shared dressing room, setting their bags down and situating themselves. Everything was going according to plan.

Dean decided to take a few minutes to stretch out while the others went to grab some food from catering. The lunatic wasn't hungry; he was too hyped for the night to come. He was excited to go against a man with incredible wrestling skills, and to put his title up for grabs. He was one for equal opportunities for those who deserved it, therefore he didn't mind putting his title out there. He wanted the challenge from other competitors.

 Dean always loved a challenge. It was exhilarating, and gave him a rush of adrenaline that he never got any other time. It made him feel alive. 

That feeling was one he adored. Feeling alive was truly amazing, and he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. 

After hearing a few pops and cracks from his joints and bones, he was off to join the others for the meeting. He felt limber and ready to take on any challenge.

Their bosses spoke of what they expected for the night, and what was on the agenda. They prepared their superstars for the night ahead of them, and encouraged all of them to do their very best. Their bosses knew the potential their wrestlers had, and knew they make the crowd go wild if done correctly. 

Everyone split up once the pep-talk was done. They went their separate ways and began to prepare. 

 -  -  -

Dean Ambrose strolled down the ramp with the belt held snug around his waist, a cocky attitude, and a smirk to match. He gave a sarcastic wave to his awaiting opponent, teasing him with the gold they were battling for. 

"You want this?" Dean hollered as he made his way down the ramp. He undid the belt and held it up above his head. "Come and get it." 

He rolled into the ring, keeping his arm raised as he traced the outline of the battling area, getting a loud reaction from the crowd. They were pulling for Dean to win, to retain his earned title. 

After everything Dean had suffered through, he deserved this. He was entitled to hold it because of how much hard work, blood, sweat, and tears he had put into his career, into his job. Why? Because he wanted to entertain his loyal fans; he wanted to put on a show for whoever wanted to watch night in and night out. 

Although he knew it would take a while for this title reign to come into play, he kept doing his damnedest to earn it. He believed in working towards your goals, not getting them handed to you. There were many superstars - men and women - who were riding on their family's name to get them someplace in this business and to him, that was only a waste of time for the fans. Why do the fans want to watch a rerun of a past wrestler? They don't. They want the fresh talent to cheer on, to adore and look up to. 

And what many of these superstars didn't know was that they were idols for many children.

That's why Dean behaved the way he did; he wanted to be an inspiration for those who followed his journey. He wanted to prove that you could get wherever you wanted as long as you worked your ass off for it, and as long as you proved your worth. 

He was tired of seeing people who didn't deserve it get what they wanted while those who had put in long hours received nothing. It wasn't fair to those who had earned it. 

Therefore, he'd offer a chance at his beloved title to those who deserved it, who had earned their place in the WWE.

Baron Corbin had done just that, and that's why he got the shot. 

His opponent did not seem impressed by his actions, but Dean didn't care. He thought they were humorous; he enjoyed teasing his enemies. Seeing them become enraged was hilarious, and was a reaction he could never get over. 

The ref took the title away and held it up himself for the crowd before setting it down. He looked between the two competitors, giving a nod. He motioned for them to ring the bell. 

They all heard a ding.

Dean and Baron locked arms, and began their fight. Baron had the upper hand at first, taking Dean down more than once. But, after Dean got to his feet, there was no breaking him down. He was up and ready to boot him in the face. 

Dean was gaining momentum by the minute and he was loving it. He was getting one over on a man who couldn't be beaten in the past; a man who had a streak of wins. 

Dean was bound to beat his streak. He was ready to be put in the record books as the man who beat the Lone Wolf's win streak.

Because Dean was not yet ready to give up his beloved Intercontinental Championship. He wanted to hold onto it for a while longer, but even then, he wouldn't be ready to let it go. He never would be. 

But he knew one day, he'd have to.

That day would be one of the saddest. But he chose not to think of it that way; it would only give him the opportunity to build himself back up as a bigger, badder, and tougher man who would be able to handle more than ever before. 

He'd make himself into a better person. 

Until then, he'd keep working on being the WWE's Intercontinental Champion. 

This was a dream come true for him; he had always dreamed of being in the spotlight, in the wrestling business. He wanted to become the next big thing. 

Most of all, he wanted to be an inspiration to others. After everything he had been through, he deserved to get his story out there to people, to tell them his struggles and hope to help someone in the process. His story could inspire someone to do something that could change the world and honestly, that possibility is what made it all worth it to him. He didn't mind, of course. Because when a fan came up to him with a big smile and requested a hug, it made it all worth it. And when they told him how much of an inspiration he was to them, it made him even happier; he actually teared up in joy. 

That's why he wrestled. To do things like this for his fans. 

Dean stared into his opponents eyes with a smirk before grabbing him and giving him the Dirty Deeds, his signature move. 

He rolled Baron over onto his back, listening as the ref counted 

1 

2 

3

to signify his win. 

He stood up with a confident grin and winked at the crowd, rolling out of the ring. He shot finger guns at Baron and strolled up the ramp. 

As he went backstage, he saw his crush, the woman he had been wanting for as long as he could remember - Becky Lynch. Her fiery orange hair lit up any room, and her smile made his heart do palpitations. 

Her eyes sparkled in the lighting, catching his attention immediately. The blue tint brought a new meaning to them and he couldn't help but get lost in them. 

"Hey, Dean," she grinned, approaching him. He snapped out of his trance to see her in front of him, something he never expected to happen. "Is everything okay?" 

"Huh? Oh, yeah," he muttered, feeling his cheeks heating up in a deep blush. "H-How are you?" 

"Oh, I'm good," she chuckled. "Are you nervous?" 

"Why...why do you ask?" Dean questioned, feeling butterflies enter his belly. 

"Well, for one, you're blushing like crazy," Becky observed, setting a hand on Dean's cheek softly. "And second, you keep stuttering and stammering. I'm not that special, you don't need to be nervous around me, buddy." 

"Buddy?" 

She nodded. "Yeah, why?" 

Dean shrugged, acting like it was no big deal when in reality, his insides were screaming with joy. Only people she liked earned the nickname of 'buddy' and this meant she liked him, even if it was only as a friend, Dean was fangirling. Now he knew why women 'fangirled' and behaved the way they did about their crushes and celebrity crushes.

 "Nothing," he replied quietly. 

"Well, I, uh, just saw your match," Becky muttered, beginning to get nervous herself. "You were quite entertaining, I have to say." 

"I could say the same thing about you earlier," Dean grinned, starting to find some confidence. "You were very flexible in the ring against Alexa; I was impressed. Well, I'm always impressed, but that's not the point." 

Becky blushed. "Always?" 

"Yeah." 

"Are you doing anything tonight?" Becky questioned with a bit lip. "I'd like to hang out with you."

Dean smiled even more. "I'd love that, actually. Let me go grab my bags and we can go out now. I have no other commitments." 

Becky giggled. "Alright, after you." 

Dean took Becky's hand and brought her to his room, where he grabbed his bags. She followed him out, his hand still gripping hers tightly. She liked the feeling of his chubby fingers against her delicate hand, so she held on. 

The smell of her vanilla perfume sent him straight into a pile of his own feelings.

He opened her door for her and she laughed lightly, beaming brightly as she got in. He closed it and put his stuff in the back before climbing in the front with her. 

"Where to, cutie?" he asked. 

"You choose," she grinned. "Take me somewhere nice, handsome." 

He looked over to see her staring at him. And before he knew it, she leaned over and kissed him gently. He moaned into it softly, pulling her closer to deepen it. 

"My hotel room okay?" 

"Sounds good." 

As they pulled away, Dean hit the gas and raced to his hotel room, where a night of laughter and fun was waiting. 

Dean was having a serious lucky streak that day.